


Nativity

by Fafsernir_oldFandoms (Fafsernir)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale is a priest, Fluff, M/M, christmas related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21994375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fafsernir/pseuds/Fafsernir_oldFandoms
Summary: It wasn’t that Aziraphale was trying to recruit Crowley or expected him to repent for his sins. He didn’t actually know what types of sins he was responsible of, anyway, but he was known to be a tempter. Or, at least, Aziraphale was tempted by him, which was already too much.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50
Collections: Good Omens Holiday Swap 2019





	Nativity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WyvernQuill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WyvernQuill/gifts).



> Written for the GO Holiday swap and WyvernQuill's prompt:
> 
> "Ineffable Husbands, priest (human) AU - Father Aziraphale is staging a nativity play in Tadfield with the local community. If only entrepreneur A. J. Crowley wasn't trying to get the church demolished for an extension of the M25 to be built straight through Tadfield..."
> 
> I hope you enjoy it :D

“Father Aziraphale…”

He looked up from his book, smiled, closed the book and put a reassuring hand on the boy’s arm. “What seems to be the matter, Adam?”

“Nothing, Father. Just Father Crowley, who’s here to see you,” the boy shrugged, lazily pointing at a thin figure standing outside the church.

“For the last time, he is not Father Crowley, but Mister Crowley. Thank you.”

“Yes, Father.”

Aziraphale patted his head and straightened up, looking towards the door and breathing in slowly. He walked to Crowley, knowing the man never felt comfortable enough to walk in a church. He wasn’t sure of the exact reason, but he knew that he always came up with excuses not to go inside. Aziraphale wasn’t trying to understand why anymore, but that man seemed to live in sin anyway, walking into a church wasn’t going to salvage him. It would take a miracle for that.

It wasn’t that Aziraphale was trying to recruit Crowley or expected him to repent for his sins. He didn’t actually know what types of sins he was responsible of, anyway, but he was known to be a tempter. Or, at least, Aziraphale was tempted by him, which was already too much.

It felt wrong, weird. He had never really thought about it, before. _Before_. When he hadn’t been familiar with Crowley, when his faith was still less impacted, purer, less of a mess. When his thoughts were clean of any obscene thoughts about Crowley, about anyone.

No. He never made any erotic dreams or anything. Certainly not, that would be a sin. Crowley was the one sinning, the one trying to tempt a priest, a Father of a small community.

They had met… Well, that was difficult to date back. It felt like they had known each other for eternity, but there always was this discord between them. They didn’t hate each other, not really – judging by some of his thoughts, Aziraphale clearly didn’t hate him. They just teased each other a lot, and both seemed to enjoy it, deep down.

Lately, he had been having more thoughts of hatred as Crowley and he were battling for the church. There were plans to destroy it, to get rid of the local church. They wanted to relocate it to smaller quarters, but it was sacred. Aziraphale was fighting to keep the place standing, Crowley wanted it gone. 

He didn’t personally want it gone, of course, or at least Aziraphale hoped he didn’t, but it was part of his job. And it was part of Aziraphale’s job to fight to keep the church intact. He didn’t even understand how it was up to discussion, how they were even considering getting rid of a church, of such an old and sacred building. Even if times were changing and Christian communities were smaller and smaller, it didn’t mean that churches had to disappear. Lots of them were turned into something else. Not that Aziraphale would let his church be turned into something else, of course, but it was one of his arguments for leaving the church as it was.

“Aziraphale, my good angel, what brings you here?” Crowley’s grin was so cocky that Aziraphale could almost ignore the attraction he felt towards that foul man.

“You asked for me.”

“Oh, right,” Crowley chuckled, lingering his vowels. “So, are you signing today?”

“You know I’m not,” Aziraphale crossed his arms on his chest.

“Worth a try…”

“Now, if you don’t mind, we have to rehearse.”

“What are you doing in here? Nativity or something like that?” Crowley asked, trying to peep inside the church.

“We are doing exactly that,” Aziraphale answered, closing the doors just to annoy Crowley, trying not to smile too smugly. Futile pride was not supposed to be the attitude of a priest. “At least, I hope we will. I would truly hate to disappoint those kids if we were to leave the church before Christmas… And to think of all those poor, lone souls…”

Crowley’s eyebrow was way past the rim of his sunglasses now, and Aziraphale stopped his act, even if he had the impression that talking about children to Crowley could eventually soften him enough to change his mind about the church. “I hope you’re doing Gabriel. All the lies about how everything will go smoothly… That guy was not scared of lying.”

“He never—” Aziraphale started, but Crowley cut him in. They’d had Bible discussions a lot, and they both knew how it ended with them.

“Anyway, I wasn’t here just to be rejected concerning your signature. I was also…” There was a short pause as Crowley was thinking, then he talked again. “And I don’t mean I expect a rejection for this. What about dinner, though? Consider it a peace treaty of some sort. You and me. We’ll light some candles if you miss the ambient mood. Turn off some lights if you want. At a restaurant! A dinner at a restaurant!” 

Crowley was babbling. He was quite lovable when he did that, his hands moving around too much, too quickly, his eyes fluttering under his glasses. Aziraphale had once asked him the reason why he was wearing his glasses constantly. Crowley had shrugged it off, blamed it on his deficient sight, and never mentioned it again. Aziraphale had not insisted. In the long years they had known each other for, he had grown to learn a thing or two about Crowley. Firstly, one should never push Crowley about a subject he did not want to mention. Eventually, he would come around himself and talk about it, if he ever felt like it. Secondly, he liked alcohol a lot. He drank alcohol a lot. Especially with dinner.

“Lead the way,” Aziraphale smiled.

* * *

Crowley sighed in his glass, then threw his head backwards to gulp the rest of it down, almost spilling some of it as he had misjudged how much was left. He looked over at Aziraphale, pursing his lips, as if to taste the wine, when he was really just contemplating the idea of kissing Aziraphale’s lips, of ravaging his perfect cheeks and neck with kisses and bites, marking him as his own, of running his hands on his soft, oh so soft, skin... 

“Crowley, would you like some dessert?” Aziraphale asked, as if he had already done it and Crowley hadn’t listened. He probably had, Crowley realised as he mentally connected back to Earth.

He shook his head. “I’m fine, but order something for yourself. I’ll just take another glass, please,” he said to the patient waiter waiting for his answer.

Aziraphale ordered his dessert while Crowley was mentally slapping himself over how much daydreaming he was experiencing around Aziraphale.

It didn’t take a genius to realise that Crowley was heavily attracted to him. Loved him, even. And despite Crowley’s strong denial and wishes to be attracted to someone – _anyone –_ else but Aziraphale, he had started accepting it. And maybe that whole church demolition stuff was just a pretext to spend even more time together. They had this sort of rivalry, which hadn’t taken roots in anything in particular, but had always been there, as well as a strong, profound friendship. Crowley just wished the man weren’t a priest, so he could know for sure what to expect. If he hadn’t been one, Crowley would have long since admitted to his attraction and waited for rejection or acceptance. Here, he was so sure of being rejected that he didn’t even try. He found stupid excuses to hang out with him and was trying to talk about as many provocative stuff as he could, just to have his fun. Aziraphale stood unaffected, the sticks Crowley was holding out going over his head every time. And the worst thing was that Crowley could not know for sure what Aziraphale was thinking.

Crowley loved Aziraphale, and Aziraphale didn’t seem to love him. Or rather, he looked like he returned the affection, but didn’t want to act upon it. Crowley sometimes caught him staring, daydreaming as much as he was daydreaming himself. He was definitely attracted in some way to Crowley, but the fact that he was a priest was putting a barrier between them. Crowley hadn’t directly asked what it meant for his love life, because he didn’t want to be so blunt and he feared the answer.

They talked and laughed, and when Aziraphale asked about the church, Crowley reminded him they did not mention their jobs when he was inviting him to dinner. Aziraphale’s cheeks flustered at the idea of Crowley inviting him, as if that hadn’t been clear enough when he had literally asked him to go out with him. 

They finished their evening over at Aziraphale’s house, a small place filled with books more so than anything else. It was obvious that no one spent much time here, and Crowley knew for a fact that Aziraphale spent all his time at the church. Well, except when he was around, tempting him to a dinner or a sugar treat. He liked to see those as small victories, as he waited for one day win Aziraphale’s heart, hopefully. 

As often, Crowley fell asleep in the middle of piles of books and he woke up in a couch, a blanket perfectly thrown over him, some bread and a written message from Aziraphale, apologizing for not waking him up, but he couldn’t bring himself to bother him, and telling him to have a good day, and that he was already at work. This time, he added “helping the kids for Nativity,” as if he knew how children could soften his nerves.

* * *

“Can I be the antler?”

Aziraphale frowned. The what now? “There’s no antler in this play, Brian…”

“But I’ve read somewhere that—”

“That’s Christmas, Brian,” Pepper rolled her eyes at him. “And we all know Santa doesn’t even exist.”

“Miss Moonchild, we can’t say things like that here!” Aziraphale said and tried not to disappear into a wall when Pepper sent daggers with her eyes. He knew she didn’t like her surname, but he sometimes forgot how frightful she looked when someone dared calling her that way. He still stood strong on his feet, and she eventually looked away.

The them were enthusiastic kids, to not say a bit too excited. They had a lot of energy, at least. It was good when they put it into something beneficial for the community, such as that time they had helped paint over some graffiti in the town. It was a bit more exhausting when they talked energetically between them and started their long discussions, which should probably be supervised by an adult to tell them how wrong they sometimes were, but they were harmless. They were just spreading false information between themselves, but they still were only children, no one could expect them to know everything, or to start criticizing and comparing their sources instead of believing everything they read.

Despite how tired Aziraphale could get only by listening to them, he loved their small group dearly. They had been the one insisting on a Nativity related activity, assuring Aziraphale they would have enough people joining, and they would make sure nothing would go wrong.

So far, Aziraphale was the one dealing badly with something which could jeopardize the play. Crowley wasn’t backing up any more than he had been on the very first day. Their deadline was coming closer and closer, and Aziraphale was not sure of the outcome of this whole mess.

He wanted nothing more than to save the church. He also hoped it didn’t mean they would stop talking with Crowley, whatever the decision would turn out to be. He just wished there wasn’t this stupid disagreement between them, sometimes. 

He helped the kids rehearse, told them what to do, then sat in a corner and worked on the costumes. Thanks to the Them, and as they had promised, people were involved in this and helping as much as possible. Aziraphale had not thought he would be able to put up something as good as this, but people seemed to like an excuse to be proud of their kids and to gather around a common celebration. 

Aziraphale had told them about the project of destroying the church, and they had all voiced their support to him. He hoped it would put enough pressure to spare the church.

* * *

Crowley tightened his grip on his file and breathed in calmly. He exhaled for a few seconds, then encouraged himself, muttering to himself. “You can do it. Okay, let’s go… It’s not like you care. It’ll be fine… They can’t fire you.”

With one last breath, he walked in the office.

“You knock, then enter,” Hastur’s greetings came instantly.

Crowley knocked on the door behind himself with a roll of his eyes. “I’m just dropping these off,” he said, sliding the file across the desk.

Hastur frowned when he saw what was written on it. “The church thing? We told you to give that up, we knew we would lose.”

Crowley nonchalantly put his hands in his pockets. If he had one, he would have irrespectively chew some gum for good measure. “Well, I didn’t.”

“You won?” Hastur’s interest was clear, and Crowley took pleasure in destroying it in a word.

“Nope. I meant that I didn’t give up.”

“What?”

“Can’t always have wins,” he shrugged.

It had been going on for too long. He had known from the very beginning that they would lose, he had said so himself. But when they had agreed and dropped the case… Well, Crowley had picked it up. One could say he had done so to spend more time with Aziraphale, but that person probably would not survive voicing such an accusation.

“Crowley…” Hastur started, but stopped himself. “I’ll get the files down,” he eventually said between gritted teeth. He wanted nothing more than to punch Crowley, and both of them knew it. “If I could fire you, I would have ages ago.”

“I know, but you don’t make those decisions, do you?” Crowley grinned.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now get out and do some actual work.”

He did leave, but he did not do any work. He sat at his desk, played with the different items he had gathered on it, and left whenever he could. He had this sort of immunity because once in a while he pulled out some big case from his arse and satisfied the big boss enough to keep him around, even when he fucked up or decided not to work for a while. Other employees did not like him much. He could not care less.

All he cared about was what Aziraphale thought. He also cared about his stupid Nativity show, now, because Aziraphale was talking about it more and more, and with such passion that Crowley could only find him adorable and gorgeous.

* * *

“You’re what?” Aziraphale said, his mouth opened in shock.

“I’m dropping the case. You won. You can do your… stupid show and keep your church.”

“Oh, Crowley, I can’t thank you enough!”

Crowley’s cheeks reddened heavily when Aziraphale threw himself in his arms. The proximity, the sudden contact with his body and the whiff of cologne he felt made his heart fasten in his chest and his stomach drop.

He patted Aziraphale’s back awkwardly, praying that the man would not notice how affected he was by a simple hug.

“What made you change your mind?” Aziraphale asked, not entirely pulling away. Crowley didn’t comment on it.

“Didn’t want to embarass you,” Crowley tried to say in a neutral voice. He silently thanked Aziraphale to accept this explanation.

“Please, come see our play!”

Before Crowley could protest or move, he felt a hand slipping in his and the physical warmth of fingers he had only dreamt of holding spread through his whole body. 

“I… I can’t,” he managed to get out. He didn’t want to go into a church. He couldn’t.

Aziraphale stopped in his track of dragging Crowley around, and his face formed a pout which broke Crowley’s heart. He did not let go of his hand.

“I have extra work… You know, what with missing this case… You could record it, if you want. I’ve got an old camera that must still be working…” Crowley didn’t want to disappoint him, didn’t want him to believe he would _never_ step into a church. He might have already realised, but Crowley didn’t want to risk it. Didn’t want his hand to go away.

“Sure,” Aziraphale’s face relaxed in a genuine smile, softening his features.

They got Crowley’s camera, their hands still locked together. Neither said a word about it, both afraid the other had simply not realised and would let go soon enough – too soon. Crowley was afraid Aziraphale would take his hand away and apologize, so he decided to enjoy the feeling while it lasted.

It didn’t really stop until Aziraphale had to leave. They held hands when they watched the poorly filmed Nativity show, too. They held hands on their next night out, and the one after that. They held hands a lot, and it always felt good, it always made them feel warm inside.


End file.
